


Finding Home

by Nihonkikuasa211



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), 声優 | Seiyuu RPF
Genre: Body Horror, Car Accidents, Gundams, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Reincarnation, War for Cybertron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26504983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nihonkikuasa211/pseuds/Nihonkikuasa211
Summary: Hiroshi certainly didn't imagine waking up to find his life changed. He was supposed to get his first major role, but instead he got aliens from another planet, an ancient war that he doesn't remember, and the knowledge that his love of Gundam wasn't random at all.
Relationships: Kamiya Hiroshi/Ono Daisuke
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	Finding Home

s

For months after the accident, Hiroshi could not remember what had happened. It was as if heavy mist had overtaken his memory. It was as if the entire month of August didn’t exist. He didn’t even remember waking up, from the accident that had almost taken his life.

The thirty-one year old man certainly didn’t remember suddenly trying to stand on his knees and screaming in writing agony before passing out. He remembered seeing the white of his hospital bed, too white in its purity that annoyed Hiroshi so much that he was grateful when a hint of color came through his hospital guests - in varying shades of blue, black and green.

The man closed his eyes, not in pain this time, but in sorrow. The Japanese man had been told that he had been barely coherent when his parents and younger brother, had finally entered the hospital room where their loved one had been in a coma for a month. The guilt made his weak stomach churn, pain dulling at his sides to the point of numbness. Why couldn’t he remember his mother’s tearful expression and his father’s trembling hands as they visited him in the hospital room shortly after waking up?

His younger brother had been the most concerned, according to the staff, as Hiroshi had been barely able to open his eyes and recognize the faces of his family.

His mother’s thin face, smiling in pure joy as he finally recognized her as he gave the woman who meant so much to him. He pretended to not notice that his frame was shaking in sobs as she softly stroked his hair.

It dawned on him then of how close he had come to death.

And now here he was, standing in the dark dusk of December, not moving an inch despite his apartment building right in front of him. He hadn’t been home in three months. The agonizing hell of rehab – the spine-crushing and white-hot pain that never seemed to end – had made him wish that he had died, another statistic of motorcycle fatalities even with a helmet.

But wouldn’t he have created more pain for his friends and family – and taken a part of their life from them if he had died? He didn’t remember the accident. Hell, his family and friends had been stunned and worried when Hiroshi had confessed the last memory he had was of walking home after a recording session, waving good-bye to his oldest friend Kenichi-kun. That had been July 31. Hiroshi had never seen his friend Kenichi-kun lose control over his emotions as quickly as he did when he told his fellow voice actor that he hadn’t remembered recording for Honey and Clover.

Hiroshi normally didn’t like physical affection and seldomly indulged in hugs or gentle touches. But Kenichi, the man he had known since they practically graduated from cram school, broke down as fat and thick tears rolled down his face as his oldest friend’s face whitened in pure pain.

It was enough to scare Hiroshi. The way Kenichi was looking at him, it was as if he was already dead.

 _This grief…_ A faint, caressing to the point of being non-exist aura entered his heart. Why did this scene look familiar?

Were Kenichi’s eyes blue?

Hiroshi could only hold his hand, the awkwardness becoming stiffing as Kenichi-kun started to sob that he had been so afriad to lose Hiroshi. He had been beyond himself with worry and agony every moment his friend remained in a coma, the grievous injuries healing only slowly.

Hiroshi had been swallowed by overwhelming emotion then, unfulfilled liquid filling his eyes as Kenichi softly smiled at him, the still of silence their communication.

Hiroshi had been surprised by how many people cared for him. He couldn’t describe how moved he was by a nurse telling him they couldn’t fit the one thousand cranes inside his hospital room. A warm and bright feeling enveloped him, a soothing sensation pulsing in his red blood.

He didn’t know what was wrong with him at first.

_“We can’t save his life.”_

That had been what the doctors had told his devastated parents when they were told about their son’s accident on August 26, 2006. They hadn’t been able to come to Tokyo at such a short notice, despite their horror at hearing their eldest had been injured in a motorcycle crash.

Hiroshi felt the pain every day he was in rehab. Sometimes the pain was so bad that his toes hurt to the cell, not able to sit up in bed in the morning. He had cried from pain, the thick tears marring his vision as his body shook. There had been far too many times that Hiroshi thought it would be better that he would have died by being thrown from his motorcycle and then was hit – heavy blunt trauma to the chest – by the truck he had been trying to avoid.

According to the medical team that had transported him to the hospital, he had been coherent for about a minute, his voice still trailing that he could go to work. Then the adrenaline had worn off and his body’s injuries were too much for his heart to handle.

His heart had stopped.

According to his friends’ blogs, not only did he had numerous wounds, but his heart and lungs simply couldn’t work without support. His lungs couldn’t function on their own, and his heart was weak. At first, in the ICU, the doctors there had attached him to a ventilator. But then his condition started to deteriorate, and his parents had been told they should stay in Tokyo for a while.

He had a trach put into him.

The doctors had been happy when Hiroshi was able to breathe on his own after taking the trach out.

Hiroshi fingered the scar absently. He would have it for the rest of his life. However, that wasn’t the only scar he had. Hiroshi looked left to where the left side of his neck was, and his hand self-conconciously cupped the strange mark. At first, Hiroshi had shrugged off the mark. He had thought that it was simply another wound that hadn’t healed. But now three months after his accident, the wound still hadn’t closed up. He had looked closer during the moments when he was strong enough to stand on his two feet. The scab looked very different than when he last looked at it. It looked similar to writing. It wasn’t kanji…or any other language he had seen.

During the last two months, Hiroshi had felt something was off about him. There was a weird humming in his head all the time, and it gave him severe headaches. Then as the pain passed, Hiroshi gradually became to realize that he wasn’t hearing humming. His mind seemed to be connected to electricity and metal of all things. Never before had he been able to understand the complicated structure of mechanics. All the beeping around him and the medical devices around him made him able to see the depths of the structures.

There were dreams that he couldn’t remember. And yet, when he woke up, the young man couldn’t help but feel a profound sense of _loss_. It was almost as if he was missing something, that…he didn’t have a home to belong to. But that was insane. Hiroshi’s hometown was Ushiku. His parents had almost pleaded with him to stay with them for a while, but Hiroshi had gently reassured them that he would visit them over the New Year’s holidays.

But yet…why did he feel that something wasn’t right? That he was in the wrong place, and would never go home again?

That there wasn’t even a home to go back to?

Hiroshi didn’t understand.

He found himself exhausted by the time he put the key into the lock of his apartment. His dark eyes wandered warily, smiling softly at the image of Nyanko sensei running to the genkan. The young cat hesitated for a moment before rubbing himself over his owner and purring loudly.

Was it just him, or did Nyanko-sensei sound like an engine?

A jolt of pain shot up in Hiroshi’s arm, a loud gasp escaping him. Red tendrils of pain wavered around his arm, and Hiroshi bit his lip from screaming in pain. It was similar to the pain he had endured in rehab, but yet…there was yet another tinge of familiarity that he couldn’t pinpoint. The tendrils started to become larger and more painful to the point where Hiroshi was brought down to his knees.

Red. Burning.

Nyanko-sensei was meowing, but Hiroshi was barely paying attention.

His eyes was focused on his hand.

Or what it had been.

Hiroshi was a Gundam fan ever since he had been about five years old, and thus knew what he was seeing. But still, his mind trembled at what he was seeing. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t…be…

His heart hammered in his chest.

Instead of a hand made out of flesh and blood, a wall of steel and cords was in his place. Hiroshi’s heart was in his throat as he was aware that what had been his hand was vaguely human-shaped. Five fingers made of out metal, a bit bigger than his previous, clenched. Something green was leaking out of the arm –

 _Servo_ a whisper replied.

 _What?_ Hiroshi thought. His mind was going crazy.

Red and pale pink paint covered the a – Servo and Hiroshi marveled that he could clench the fingers itself.

Suddenly a loud whirring bombed inside his head, and Hiroshi clutched his head with his other hand.

Codes that he didn’t understand – green with a vague old-computer typing – appeared across his eyes. Frequencies and other sharp noises pounded in his head, and Hiroshi found himself screaming.

His screams echoed across the apartment, blood-curling as the pain intensified as the mechanical had seemed to grow a bit larger. The sound inside his head was too much.

Words that he didn’t even know appeared in his mind, seeming so much like speed-reading a computer.

Hiroshi opened his mouth to speak, but what came out of his mouth was not Japanese.

It sounded like a language, but one that he didn’t know. But how did his senses seem to calm from the words that came from his mouth.

But inside his head, Hiroshi vaguely saw a sleek building, taller than any he had seen before. Sounds and frequencies were beautiful harmony in his mind. And the sky…how gorgeous it was. It was much closer than normal, the stars larger and spellbinding. And Hiroshi lifted his hand to reach the stars that were twinkling above. But he was surprised to find the familiar machinal arm instead, and much bigger.

_He found himself reaching out to the sky again, the simple pull of the sky reminding him of the fact that the was beauty in their world._

_A smile formed on his face, and Hiroshi found the emptiness inside him fade away._

_Then, his sensors tingled and he knew what – no,_ who _was approaching him without even turning._

_He knew the frequency as any vicious Decepticon. It was such a shame that their former family members_

_were reduced to this primitive race._

_“Optimus.” There was a fondness in his tone, and respect was rolling of his sensors, enough for Hiroshi to want to bow as low as possible._

_His voice was the very same._

_“I knew you would find me.”_

A tear leaked from Hiroshi’s eye. An overwhelming sense of home enveloped him as agony exploded across his body.

Before Hiroshi fully fell into unconsciousness, he heard a message.

_“Autobots. We found one of our own.”_

When Hiroshi awoke, he was surprised to be in his own bed.

 _…What…happened last night?_ He tried to shake his head off from weariness, but it was as if his body weighed like stones.

Or if he was made out of metal.

A hoarse rasp escaped from him then, and his mind was bombarded with memories from last night.

_The pain. Servo…Cyer…._

He looked down at his hand.

It was the same as it had been before it had turned into metal.

Hiroshi flopped down on his bed and sighed, putting his hand over his face.

_First I get into an accident that caused me to be put in a coma. Then I have this...nightmare._

_What’s next, Gundam is real?_

Hiroshi almost snickered.

He turned his head and found the sight of the late December day. Tokyo was warm, so there was limited amount of frost accumulating on the grass. Instead, Hiroshi saw a huge mechanical face looking at him, its optics drawn to him.

“Oh, hello Ratchet.”

Hiroshi was feeling rather sleepy but then his back straightened like a pole.

“Ratchet?!” He yelled. Gulping with his hands tightening into balls of fear, Hiroshi slowly turned his gaze towards his window. It, whatever it was, was still there.

He had a choice. To run or fight.

Hiroshi wasn’t certain which of those he was able to do right now. He held a breath and opened the door to his window.

A wave of nostalgia immediately enveloped Hiroshi. The brown-haired man found himself smiling despite his insides quivering and his heart beating rapidly.

The Cybertronian was crouching down. Hiroshi could see the wear and tear of his knees and the metal plates. His knowing gold optics were watching him closely.

Instead Hiroshi his very being was wrapped in awe. The pain tingling like pins and needles seemed distant now under that gaze.

“Antares?”

Hiroshi jumped at the sound of the unfamiliar name coming from the robot’s lips. Still, his heart _sang_.

A part of him wanted to call back using that foreign tongue.

_What the fuck is happening to me?!_

A rush of rage and confusion pored through his soul, numbing Hiroshi to the fact that the robot was more than half his size. Hiroshi considered himself a rational and emotional person. He was kind and trusted people. But even so, his now-primary doctor had warned the younger man that he might experience moments of irrationality and rage.

So maybe it was no surprise that Hiroshi jumped at the crouching robot.

He didn’t expect the yellow-coated robot to stand suddenly. Hiroshi’s mind swayed, the world around him becoming much farther away as he held on with his dear life to the robot’s plate of armor.

The gold ptics seemed to be more shocked than his own as they took him in this…form.

“You’re so small…” Ratchet muttered, causing Hiroshi to thin his lips. “In this form as well…The All-Spark energy was nearby.”

“What is an organic?” Hiroshi asked with a bite to his tone.

Ratchet only blinked at the Japanese man glaring in front of him. Sadness seemed to linger in his optics.

“This race...I believe they call themselves homeo sapiens.” Ratchet lifted a finger towards the smaller human and Hiroshi almost flinched. The robot’s fingers were shockingly gentle against Hiroshi’s skin, a simple brush despite the largeness of the hand. “We did not expect this.”

Hiroshi’s eyes narrowed. His eyes squeezed shut and a cry of pain escaped him as he _felt_ wavelengths embed in his brain. It was like fire, and Hiroshi felt his consciousness starting to slip away.

Even so, he heard the message.

[Optimus. We found him in this organic form.] Hiroshi almost felt insulted by how Ratchet sounded disappointed. [He does not have a bipedal form.]

There was a pause. [Does he have a spark?]

 _I know those voices…_ Hiroshi thought. Why did a part of him feel overjoyed at the thought of hearing those voices again, as if he had been in their presence before?

Vaguely, a memory resurfaced. Walls of fire. Screams. Hunks of metal – no, bodies – on top of one another as one tall red and blue figure knelt in front of them. He, Hiroshi, felt larger and stronger in this…memory. He was astounded to find his body radically different than before. Instead of hands and feet with a body, plates of armor and the same red and pale pink coating covered his mechanical form. He transformed – _What?!_ – his glowing sword into a hand. He approached their leader, trepidation surfacing in his spark as the tall red and blue mech stool vigil beside their comrades.

Hiroshi realized far too late that Ratchet – how did he know his name? – was scanning his body. Using strength that he didn’t know he possessed, Hiroshi tugged himself out of Ratchet’s grip. His body panicked at the sight of the ground falling towards him, but something inside Hiroshi knew what to do.

He landed on his feet perfectly and got into a defensive karate stanch that he knew since he had been a child.

“Who the hell are you?!” Hiroshi yelled, not caring about the neighbors for once. He moved his fists in front of his hands. “Why are you here?!”

The man kept his eyes open despite pain cracking his skull as the two robots continued to communicate.

They were talking in the same language Hiroshi had heard last night. It made him breathless to think he actually could understand, even though he didn’t know why.

[…Yes.]

Hiroshi kept his fists in front of him as Ratchet suddenly transformed into his bipedal mode, the sickening sight of the familiar ambulance coming into view as he marveled at the transformation.

[We should talk more privately, human.]

It surprised how the yellow being spoke in Japanese to him.

_How do you know Japanese?_

There was a faint humor in Ratchet’s voice. _The world wide web._

Hiroshi growled under his breath. He could either go with this alien creature or possibly be killed. There was no way he could escape unharmed.

 _Kidnapping it is,_ the adult human thought. Slowly, he began to enter Ratchet’s…form. There were two seats, both black and newish. Hiroshi looked back and found that the back looked exactly like an ambulance. …Not that he knew what it looked like since he only had a minute of consciousness. Hiroshi started to feel nervous despite the soft humming the ambulance-looking creature was giving him through the radio. His fingers touched the scar under his Adam’s apple as distress started to gather in his mind.

What was happening to him? Why was he having these strange emotions even though he didn’t remember feeling it? Why was his arm in so much agony last night?

Hiroshi was silent during the car ride. Thoughts were swirling around his head. _What about my job? Why…did this alien come to my apartment and then take me away like it’s some kind of movie?_

[At ease, human embodying spark,] Ratchet signaled. Hiroshi almost jumped in surprise. We are almost there to meet Optimus.]

When Hiroshi got out of the ambulance, he was surprised to find himself about thirty minutes away from Tokyo. The familiar sights and life of the city faded away in an abandoned park. The playground’s figures were red with rust, the duck and horse made of metal almost painful to look at, and grass had overgrown the area.

Hiroshi bit his lip, fear tingling in his heart as he saw another vehicle starting to come by.

It was a semi-truck, a Pederson with blue and flames covering it. Hiroshi’s heart sped up immediately and knew who it was.

_Omae… Omae…_

He almost wanted to shout in joy.

His body ached, and Hiroshi felt his hand begin to tremble. Pain was starting to grow around his temples as he witnessed the leader of the Autobots transform.

Hiroshi looked up in awe, his emotions stunning him as he looked open-mouthed at the tall Cybertronian in front of him. His body was the same as always. There were dents and scars from a millenia of battle, but mech in front of the human retained the same honor and bravery Hiroshi always remembered.

_I…remember…?_

Hiroshi bowed low to his toes without even realizing he did it.

[Stand. You know you do not need to bow to me.]

Hiroshi was bewildered. His heart was clutched with so many emotions he couldn’t even remember.

[Optimus Prime.] The words that came out of his mouth were not foreign to him. [It is good to see you, old friend.]

The blue optics bored into his own eyes, and Hiroshi thought he saw something pass the leader’s face before speaking to him in Japanese.

The deep baritone was like a long-forgotten lullaby Hiroshi had suddenly remembered.

“Why??!” Hiroshi abruptly screamed, almost tearing his throat in the process. His head hurt as if a bomb had exploded from the conflicting thoughts in his mind. “Wh-hat are you?! I don’t understand why you kidnapped a stupid old man like me! Are you modified Gundam or something?”

The Autobots had no change in expression, but Hiroshi was certain they thought he was crazy.

“Gundam…?” Optimus Prime looked loss for words. Hiroshi almost laughed at the seriousness of his expression. “Who is a Gundam…?”

“It’s an anime,” Hiroshi replied somewhat hotly. I don’t understand. Why why – “This director must be good at creating robots like you.” _They have to be machines,_ Hiroshi convinced himself.

The much smaller human almost jumped away as Optimus Prime suddenly leaned down at his level.

“Your name in this country is Kamiya Hiroshi.” Stop sounding so diplomatic, Hiroshi thought with frustration. “Approximately three vorns ago, we got a signal of a Decepticon attack.” That was in August. “Although this word views it as another motor accident, we Autobots know this was a deliberate attempt on your life in this organic form.”

Hiroshi was finding it hard to breathe. He wished more than ever that he remembered what had happened during the accident, but his memory was as blank as ever. The blue and red – like flame – alien seemed to understand, for he said,

“Your comrades understand that you have limited memory recollection of your life on Cybertron. However, when Ratchet and I left from the stars to this planet called Earth, we saw that your body was in very bad physical condition.” Optimus’ optics didn’t leave Hiroshi’s, an expression of grief so profound he felt as if he had punched. “You very nearly offlined again.”

Hiroshi felt his breath hitch. _Again?_

Well, he actually did die, but there was no harm in not telling them, right?

“But yet the Decepticon attack awakened your organic body to remember when you were a Cybertronian.” Ratchet said carefully. His optics glanced at Hiroshi’s trembling legs. “Even though your organic body is still recovering, after four million years we found a signal of your spark. And you have a tattoo on your neck.”

Hiroshi almost fainted. He held his neck as if it would save him from collapse. That scar…it was just a wound, right?

“You are not fully Cybertronian.” Heaviness echoed in Optimus Prime’s tone, and Hiroshi looked up to see the robot viewing him with sorrow. “Your body was reborn into this fragile one, but – ”

“Stop calling me that.” Hiroshi’s voice was quiet, but was dangerously clam. Rage filled his voice. And somehow…the ceaseless sorrow was there too. “I’m Kamiya Hiroshi! Born human, in Chiba prefecture, Matsudo, on January 28, 1975! I’ve never been a robot, daman it! I’ve…” He swallowed the rawness in his tone. “Ever since the accident, I’ve heard screeching and dials and all sorts of technology in my head!” He roared. “What am I supposed to do?! I’m a voice actor, not some…soldier! I’m so skinny I would be the first idiot to die! I don’t even remember my accident, much less being a billions years old alien robot!

“I just want to go back to work! To find…a place where I belong, god help me! Is that too much to ask?!”

“Hiroshi.” His name sounded so foreign from those lips. Optimus Prime, the giant robot was looking at him with affection. “I know this is very difficult for your life. But even I can feel the pulse of energon in your spark. You are not quite human, but not quite Cybertronian either. Can you transform your limbs into something metallic? The sounds you here are your family members calling to you, thousands of galaxies away.”

Hiroshi hissed in a breath as the words started to reach him. What…was he? The vague feelings and emotions seemed to resonate again. The sense of closenessness and warmth…and of other things, like sorrow and rage…

“We suspect that a shard of a Decepticon’s metal – a spark – was somehow absorbed into your body during the accident. That is why we theorize that you know are regaining your memories and why you, despite having an organic body, have a spark.”

Ratchet’s words were forgotten as an intense pain was felt in Hiroshi’s head. It was as if someone had cracked his skull and pulled apart his limbs. All the pain he experienced in rehab didn’t compare to this. The memories were too fast for him to see. It was as if the pain and speed he was having bled into his entire body. His screams echoed in the broken playground.

Ratchet and Optimus Prime shouted his name, but Hiroshi was in too much pain to even hear them.

Names and places that he knew – the sound of laughter, seeing the gladiator Megatronus by his side as he fought by him as another member of the lowest class, the young face of an innocent and young Orion Pax, the scholar’s whispers sounding like a fairy tale. The young face, without the wear of war, betrayal, grief, and immeasurable pain. The death of so many of their comrades. Both Decipticons and Autobots alike, staining their dying planet with green energon. And yet the soft growls of Ratchet as he patched the Autobots as much as he could before another battle, a recharge-deprived Optimus staring at the stars and of him joining, simply talking of more peaceful and happier times. And of the leader they admired and loved so much never allow any bot to get close to him, during the war. The slick of energon against his plates as he screamed for Optimus as his best friend lied dying, then screaming for Optimus himself as the leader shielded his Autobots from a Decepticon attack. And then….vowing to the wise Sentinal Prime to help him aboard the Ark to end this horrific war. Of him fighting hand-to hand combat against Starscream and failing to protect his leader’s mentor, the closest thing either of them have felt of having a father. Of feeling the heavy grief and rage that caused him to defeat the twenty Decepticons before taking a plasma bullet into his spark chamber.

Hiroshi could almost see Orion Pax and Optimus Prime as one. The gentle and kind but naïve youngling he had been…that they all had been…and this Cybertronian who had so much death and the destruction of their planet of his shoulders.

_“I will never be able to live up to the Prime name. How do you manage to fight for so long? I…don’t know anything about fighting.”_

_The red and pink mech stared at the young Prime. He had never sounded so uncertain of himself before. He sent soothing waves to the fellow youngling._

_“Don’t worry. I will teach you how to fight. You may not be a fighter, Optimus Prime, but you embody all that is a Prime: loyalty, bravery, compassion, and most of all, the love of all sentient beings. It is okay if you lose faith in this old sword-wielding scrap.” He turned his bright optics to the young red and blue mech who was drinking his every word._

_“But never lose faith in yourself.” Smiled. “Do you promise, Orion?”_

_Shakily, Orion smiled back at his name. He still felt like Orion and not Optimus Prime, a too-heavy burden to bear._

_“I promise.”_

_Little did he know that would be the last time he saw a smile grace the mech’s face, or that he would never be called Orion again._

He coughed, blood leaking from one side of his mouth before his arm transformed into the former Servo and he became aware of the metal of the world.

“It is so good to see you.”

When Hiroshi awoke, his entire body was on fire. Hot spikes of flame curled around his frame, the deep heat taking away his breath. Every part of his body ached.

Pain.

Pain.

Hiroshi barely had enough energy to open his eyes, but his brown orbs widened in shock.

Ono Daisuke stilled as his hand moved to touch Hiroshi’s forehead. Hiroshi found himself staring at Daisuke intently despite dizziness wracking his body. His heart seemed to beat twice as fast at the sight of the younger man. His dark hair was slightly longer, slightly curling around his nape. For some reason Hiroshi had the urge to bury his head into Ono-kun’s neck and sniff. The world swirled around him, making him close his eyes in the next second to make the world stop. Ono-kun still looked the same the last time they had seen each other, in late July.

“Kamiya-san?” The voice was as nervous as ever around him. The younger man paused, as if weighing his words. “Someone called me using your cell phone…I don’t know how they got my number, but I’m glad…”

That smooth baritone would be the end of him. Hiroshi unconsciously unclenched his hands.

He remembered when they first met. They were new voice actors, recording an episode. Hiroshi had first noted of how Daisuke seemed shy, barely able to meet his gaze. _He was annoyingly handsome._ Somehow this Ono-kun from Koichi prefecture was also similarly affected. The sound director didn’t seem to notice how the two men – there seemed to be a pulse between them. Although their conversation was brief, Hiroshi remembered how Ono-kun smiled at him before bowing.

_“Don’t bow to me, Ono-kun.” The characteristic bite in his tone was gone, replaced by a gentleness Hiroshi only associated with his closest friends and his younger brother. “You’re only three years younger than me.”_

“You have a fever, Kamiya-san.” The younger man said oblivious to Hiroshi’s musings. “The person who called…said that I should take care of you.” A peal of laughter escaped from the taller man, and Hiroshi almost opened his eyes.

He felt so tired…

“The message was very strange. It was almost like a…robot.”

_Robot…a hulking figure of red and blue, the plates surrounding his figure…of a concerned medic, suddenly appearing…_

_Fuck!_

Hiroshi was suddenly not tired anymore.

The pain still tingled, and his wide eyes took in the fact that his arm remained made out of flesh and blood.

His head became tangled with memories…that belonged to him, apparently. He looked down at his hand. How could it be possible that…he was once one of them? A robot similar to his childhood fantasies, but yet not? He did have a vague feeling of happiness at the sight of his supposed comrades.

_Optimus Prime…and Ratchet._

_E_ ven though he had only known them for barely an hour, something inside him told them he knew them, as comrades in war, as fellow Cybertronians…and as friends.

_They called me Antares…_

_“Astrarowan…”_

It was such a mouthful of a name.

Hiroshi didn’t like it. He bit his lip, dizziness overcoming him as another headache settled in his head.

“Kamiya-san?” Ono-kun sounded worried. Hiroshi didn’t even look at him. His mind was too dizzy, pain racing along his chest again.

His arm began to twitch.

_Why were the Autobots here? I have to demand answers from them!_

Hiroshi sat up as pain started to gather in both his arms. The blood rushed to his head, causing him to collapse in bed again and breathe through his nose to not vomit.

Why was he so weak? He only remembered fainting again in Optimus’ hands.

“Kamiya-san!” The voice sounded so distant to Hiroshi’s ears. “Are you okay? You still have a fever…”

Hiroshi was too weak to feel embarrassed that he almost let out a sigh and a moan as Daisuke’s cool hands touched his soaked forehead.

“Do you need to go to the hospital?”

Hiroshi almost vomited from anger at the sound of the word. He had been in the hospital way too much for his liking.

“Hate…that place…” The smaller man whispered and winced as another surge of pain entered his arms. Daisuke laughed, a calm sound going through his throat, and Hiroshi almost felt too-light-headed.

“Daisuke…” he rasped. He could even feel the other man’s shock at calling him his first name. “A..ahhh!!”

A red-hot explosion erupted in his arms. Hiroshi could barely utter words to speak, his chest heaving from the pain. The agony seeped through his limbs, and Hiroshi almost whimpered from the sheer deepness of the sensation.

“Kamiya – ”

“AHHH!! O-OHHH!! ARGGHHH!” His mind was cracking. The man didn’t know how, but he could feel his bones starting to break inside of him, his veins writing and screaming. His arms…his arms…!

Blood was leaking from his arms. Hiroshi could barely feel Daisuke yelling and calling his name over Hiroshi’s screams.

The bleeding didn’t stop, and the pain only intensified.

He couldn’t even think anymore. _I’m going to die,_ Hiroshi thought blearily. His heart was beating more than twice as fast as he heard the sounds of metal…transforming.

The air stopped surfacing.

Hiroshi almost passed out from the absence of agony. Tears were flowing from his eyes. His entire body trembled.

Daisuke was silent. Hiroshi, with his heart in his throat, looked down.

His arms had transformed into large metal plates. His panting revealed that his red and pink plating extended to both of his shoulders now. Hiroshi almost stopped crying from the amount of shock he felt in his system.

In the place of his legs, were also metal. Waves of red and pale pink were painted over the metal, the screws and bolts in place as if they had always been there. There were even small dents where his toes should have been. Hiroshi’s labored breathing echoed in the otherwise silent room.

He couldn’t look at himself anymore.

Hiroshi didn’t know what to think anymore.

[I’m very sorry, old friend.] Hiroshi’s back straightened and his stomach curled at the sound of Optimus Prime’s calm voice. He didn’t care of the sound of guilt he heard in his old friend’s tone. The pain was replaced by helplessness and rage. [Ratchet and I could only watch over your organic body before your sparkmate could arrive. It seems that the transformation you had caused a rise in temperature and distress signal. I was wrong about…the extent your condition. I am very sorry.]

[What do you mean?!!] Hiroshi screamed internally. He didn’t care if it was Japanese or whatever language they spoke. [What…is going to happen to me?!!]

[Ratchet theorizes that the spark inside of you became absorbed by your cells, and later your chemical make-up. It is not an easy thing to say, Astrarowan…but it appears that your body can transform into a Cybertronian to an organic, or human.]

Hiroshi’s heart stopped. His head was empty. He didn’t hear the sound of his breathing.

[I am…aggrieved to say that your life will no longer remain as it was before…Hiroshi.]

Hearing his name tore apart whatever control Hiroshi had. Hard, ugly sobs tore through his body. It felt as if his entire body had been hit by the truck – or fucking Decepticon that tried to kill him – and then twisted until only parts of him remained.

Hiroshi felt Daisuke’s arms around him. Despite the uncomfortable position Daisuke must have been in, holding two alien arms, Daisuke didn’t let him go. Slowly, the agonizing pain faded and Hiroshi trembled as the metal disappeared into flesh again.

[Never forget you have us, dear friend…and your sparkmate will always be beside you.]

Hiroshi didn’t have to guess what a sparkmate was. He had a spark…

Somehow the term wouldn’t have embarrassed him as much as it would have. Instead of cursing the alien creatures and screaming at them to give him a break, Hiroshi felt more exhausted than ever.

His head lied against Daisuke’s own chest, hearing the heartbeat against his ears. Before he could even understand what he was doing, Hiroshi took Daisuke’s fingers in his own.

Using his arms, Hiroshi pulled Daisuke’s neck forward. 

The stunned expression of his – lover? – was the last thing across Hiroshi’s eyes before the older man leaned to press his chapped lips against Daisuke’s.

_Primus, I’ve always wanted to do that._

Kamiya Hiroshi continued to live as he had for the past ten plus years.

He woke up early in the morning to feed his beloved Nyanko.

Before going to work, he strolled the streets of his neighborhood. And then –

Who was he kidding? He had found out that not only was he the reincarnation of an alien robot – Cybertronian took some getting used to and caused a gaping wound in his stomach – who was over 30 feet tall, had fought in a war far too long for Hiroshi’s liking, and apparently, the enemies were still out there!

Hiroshi didn’t know if he was crazy or not. The situation that he found himself in was mortifying, worse than even the agony that poured through his limbs every time his body tried to transform – that was hell.

The man wondered if his comrades could hear his unfulfilled cries of pain that burned through his flesh every time his flesh turned to metal. He had stopped screaming at around the fourth day the pain occurred. Sometimes the pain lasted for only a couple minutes. Often times though the pain throbbed at night, making it impossible for Hiroshi to sleep. His jaw burned and his lips were a permanent shade of red by holding in the screams.

[Your life as you know it will end, Hiroshi.] Hiroshi knew that goddamn Autobots – he was still seriously pissed at them even though they were his comrades – must be very pleased with themselves by finding another robot to fight the Decepticons. The man almost snorted at the thought. When he was able to sleep, the memories of his former life took over his mind. There were pleasant memories, of the sky and galaxy shining with stars, hearing the laughter and shrieks of younglings and the sight of blue, red, purple, sky blue, black…all the colors in his universe that had been Cybertron.

There hadn’t always been Decepticons.

 _Cybertron wasn’t an idlyic place, that’s for sure._ Hiroshi half-smiled in the weak sunlight, staring at the blue sky. It was quiet in Tokyo today. He sighed from somewhere deep in his chest. _It was separated by a caste system, with the richest at the top, power and greed corrupting the society that was once…more equal. Politicians, nobility, the elites…and then those at the bottom._ Hiroshi remembered the dark days of fighting in the Pits. No bot was able to survive there, with squaler conditions dominated by violence, blood, rage, and offlined corpses. Megatron, as he had been known then, had been the most powerful of them all. Unlike the other mechs and femmes who were burdened with rage and violence, tension curling in their cords as energon was spilled – for entertainment for the elite.

The elites didn’t care about anyone except for themselves. Eliminating those born in the lowest of conditions and the dirtiest of them all, and by using violent ends to get rid of the rotten core was the best the horrific nobility could hope for.

Hiroshi – or Astrarowan millions of years ago – hadn’t even heard of Orion Pax. Life was as fine as it was. He didn’t know about the corruption decaying and hemmorging Cybertron until he listened to Megatron.

The speeches spoke of breaking down the caste system that shackled them all, living in a society for equality and not based on power.

Like Orion Pax, Astrarowan had been taken by that idea. He didn’t even know about the correspondence between the gladiator and archivist until Megatron had mentioned it to him. The red and pink mech thought those two were glitched out of their mind, thinking they could change society.

 _I was cynical even then._ The thought made Hiroshi almost laugh. Ever since he had been having memories of his past life, he began to realize that Astrarowan and Kamiya Hiroshi were very similar.

Only his closest friends and family members knew how the young man had self-doubt. Putting himself down and realizing how replacble he was made Hiroshi strive to find a place he belonged. It was hard, being a voice actor. It was only thanks to his parents that he hadn’t yet starved to death in Tokyo. And yet, Astrarown and plagued by self-doubt too. He didn’t think of himself as a bot worth noting, but the longing and loneliness that he had passed down to Hiroshi himself.

The man wondered. _Does Ratchet know how Optimus doubts himself too? The insecurities he has, as a leader and as just as a…sentient being, as he loves to say so much, even though he’s fought a war for millions of years? Do any of the Autobots know?_

That was something he and Optimus Prime had in common. Ironhide and various long-offlined comrades believed that Optimus Prime and Astarrowan had a strong bond because they knew Megtron before he became jealous of Orion Pax being chosen as the next Prime. The black mech had shown his true self then. He didn’t care as much about destroying the caste system in Cybertron than establishing himself as an authoritarian ruler. Under Megatron’s rule, the former Cybertron would have been a daydream.

Orion Pax then became Optimus Prime despite his youth. Astarrowan had watched in horror as Megatron revealed his true goals and his impassioned desire to destroy Optimus Prime, the deep friendship they shared turning into bottomless one-sided hatred.

How could one broken bond destroy an entire world?

Hiroshi still didn’t know. The memories continued to play in his mind, but Megatron’s sheer hatred and jealousy of Optimus Prime, and his distaste for the peace and honor Orion had even before he became a Prime shattered the Cybertronian world.

The war was too long for Hiroshi’s liking. But Optimus had been determined that Megatron would not control their world.

But…

He saw fires burning again. The mountain of metal carcasses tall enough to reach Megatron’s forehead, and the nightmares of energon, screams, processors being cracked beyond repair, sparks crushed as a loved one was killed…and Optimus’ empty eyes.

It wasn’t as if Optimus hadn’t tried peace talks with the Decepticons. Many former ‘cons had defected to the Autobots side after seeing too much pain and death. Their song of anarchy and violence would offline them before the war would end. Optimus was the brightest star in the darkest of nights. He was like a flame that flickered, danced, wavered, but never went out.

Optimus always believed that any sentient being had the capability to change and find their humanity again.

_“War destroys us.”_

Ratchet was the snarky medic that kept everyone together. If Astarrowan was Optimus’ invisible energon line, then Ratchet was the lock that kept the Autobots together. Too many times had the red and pink mech been in need of repairs and Ratchet had given him hell for getting injured in the first place. Even Optimus wasn’t safe from Ratchet’s snark, but there was an understanding between them that even Astarrowan wouldn’t dare penetrate.

Both were weary and sick of war. Six million years of it, recharging just to do it all over again in an endless loop was enough to make a bot insane. Some did. Many bots killed themselves – or self-offlining as it was known – after too much war. Those wounds were something that no Autobot could shake. Ironhide just kept on getting angrier and angrier, hating the Decepticons more as the violence continued despite having no rest.

Jazz, the faithful second in command, was the peace-breaker in between the rage and sorrow that the Autobots faced every vorn. How could anyone take it?

Hiroshi had no idea why he was reborn, but he certainly wasn’t going down that path of energon-soaked Hell Pit again.

“Kamiya-san.”

Hiroshi abruptly swallowed his tongue and almost swore.

Ono Daisuke, the man he had _fallen_ asleep on in his arms, was now standing awkwardly on the roof, his gaze lifting to Hiroshi’s shyly. Hiroshi tried to calm his stupid heart – or was it spark now ? – that seemed to race at the sight of this man and was now walking forward to meet him.

His head felt almost empty, and Hiroshi swallowed the thickening saliva, his small hands almost crushing the steel railing.

 _Why is he here?!_ Hiroshi was terrified that Daisuke had remembered that… _embarrassing_ event. He wasn’t even a child, and yet he had fallen asleep in the other’s arms like falling into a deep sleep after a nightmare.

So far neither of the Autobots had tried to contact him. Thank God. Although Hiroshi was grateful that he was back to work as a voice actor, there was always a tendril of terror the human man held inside of him, of his body suddenly turning on him and revealing that he could transform into a 30 foot alien robot. Hiroshi couldn’t stop thinking about that, and of his own resurfacing memories. For all its faults, Cybertron had been home. A home dear to his heart, filled with laughter and mechanical beings who died like dogs from Megatron’s war.

 _But is it all Megatron’s fault?_ A traitorous voice whispered in his ear. Hiroshi quickly shook that thought away, knowing that his past self knew how much guilt and grief Optimus carried with him from the war.

 _I don’t even know why I’m still here in the first place._ It was just too strange to not be contacted for a week, right?

Hiroshi didn’t know if it was because Optimus had ordered them to or if it was because they didn’t know how to interact with a former ally-turned organic.

Hiroshi blushed pink. He remembered that moment very well. His dark eyes were unable to meet Ono-kun’s deep stare, and found himself unable to say anything. A jolt of fear pulsed through him. It was obvious that the younger man knew about what he was…what would he do?

Hiroshi breathed and tried to not focus on this man who had seen him in such a vulnerable state.

“Thank you for taking care of me, Ono-kun.” It was as if he couldn’t even focus on the world around him. _Why is it suddenly so hot?_ Hiroshi had been freezing even with the jacket wrapped around him, but now it was as if Hiroshi was breathing the hot and burning feeling inside him.

Ono-kun didn’t seem to be able to speak. His eyes were like open windows, and his soul seemed to focus on Hiroshi. A ball of uncertainty crawled in Hiroshi’s throat. He tried to tell his insecurities to fuck themselves, but there they were inside his stupid mind again.

Hiroshi recognized the look Ono-kun was giving him. He couldn’t even swallow from the intensity of that gaze. Why – no, _how_ was Ono-kun even looking at him like he was someone to be awed by? He was no one special. He was just a seiyuu who had been stupid enough to land himself in the hospital and could be replaced at any time in the strenuous business they were in. Hiroshi bit his lip and closed his eyes, but when he hesitantly opened them again, Ono-kun was still looking at him with the same expression.

“Ono-k –”

“Kamiya-san –”

Hiroshi’s voice stalled. They hadn’t talked about that day for several months.

The May wind brushed through his hair, and the shorter man felt as if his heart would explode any longer if Ono-kun didn’t say anything.

“Kamiya-san…” The too-handsome face that had been in Hiroshi’s dream far too much was near him. Was it him, or was Ono-kun coming closer?

There was always something behind their interactions. There was a softness and yet need in Ono-kun’s expression when he caught Hiroshi looking at him. How could he not? This man, too kind and gulliable to be considered real, was like a dream.

Hiroshi loved Daisuke’s laugh. His spine unconsciously shuddered at the memory of the many moments Daisuke spoke. It took everything he had to control his side of the electricity surrounding them.

Too many times after agonizing pain from his body failing again and again to transform, Hiroshi’s thoughts were on Daisuke.

At first Hiroshi had denied how the daydreams and thoughts about one Ono Daisuke followed him everywhere. He didn’t feel that way about a person, because he wasn’t good enough.

Why would anyone look his way? He was just a man, with nothing particularly interesting about him with self-confidence issues with a bad habit of talking himself down no matter the situation. He wasn’t good enough for Ono Daisuke, simply because –

“Kamiya-san.”

Hiroshi almost jumped out of his skin from the soft and deep tone Daisuke was giving him. It was almost impossible to believe Ono-kun didn’t hear how fast his heart was beating.

“Um…I just…” There was a familiar Ono-kun grin, and the younger man smiled. “I know that we go to our regular ramen place near the studio, and…”

“You idiot,” Hiroshi muttered with fake sarcasm. “You have a cell phone. You can always text me, Ono-kun.”

Ono-kun suddenly licked his lips, and Hiroshi almost groaned at the undoubtfully heated look the taller man was giving him. It wasn’t fair that he had the most seductive voice in the industry, but also could express his emotions so well. He had no idea how hot he was, with his hair, plump lips, and dark eyes…

Oh, how Hiroshi wanted. He had absent-mindedly wondered what Ono-kun’s lips would taste like, how his skin would feel underneath his fingers, how the man would kiss and nibble at his own lips…and if he was truly as good in bed as salicous rumors suggested. But not only did they have their careers on the line – the draconian no-dating rule for female seiyuu – but now…Hiroshi’s secret.

Hiroshi hummed, desperately distracting himself from the heated thoughts swirling in his head.

“We cou – ”

Ono-kun crushed his lips against Hiroshi’s own. The kiss was as passionate as Hiroshi feared it would be. His gasp from the intensity of the kiss was lost in his own subsequent moan as Ono-kun continued to move his lips across Hiroshi’s. The kiss was hot, and searing. Hiroshi couldn’t get enough, pulling the younger against him as his lips began to caress together.

It wasn’t sweet or chaste. Hiroshi personally didn’t care all that much as his back was suddenly caressed, gasping in the other’s mouth as their lips continued to lick, suck, and probe each other.

“Hmm…a-ahh…O-ono-kun…” His body was hotter than it had been, and Hiroshi was beyond coherency at this point, simply wanting more of the taller man’s mouth. Need burned his body as the two pushed their bodies together.

A lewd string of saliva connected their lips when they finally parted. Both men’s chests were moving rapidly, a slightly glazed look in Hiroshi’s eyes as Ono-kun looked completely delectable, with his tosseled hair. Hiroshi almost laughed at the fact that both of their lips were red and swollen looking.

“Daisuke.” The care in his tone in the man’s voice shocked Hiroshi. Even more, his partner in DGS softly brushed his cheek. It was scary of how Hiroshi didn’t care about Ono-kun touching him. “Call me Daisuke, Hiroshi.”

The sound of his name, spoken with that voice again almost made Hiroshi melt to the floor. A warm spark settled in his abdomen at the impossibly soft look Daisuke was now giving him. His name sounded so…beautiful when Daisuke said it.

“Do you have idea how you’ve driven me crazy these past few months?” Daisuke stated as his two fingers pressed and touched Hiroshi’s bottom lip.

Hiroshi would later confess that he wasn’t truly paying attention to what Daisuke was saying.

“Since DGS, I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind. Your face, your lips, your sarcastic and cynicism…I’ve been bound to you. I feel this… _connection_ that shouldn’t be there, because we’ve only known each other for only a couple of months and yet…”

“I felt the same,” Hiroshi confessed. Seeing Daisuke’s blinding smile was worth this embarrassment as Hiroshi was never able to lay his heart open for everyone to see. “You, with your handsomeness and silliness…the jokes you make to make me laugh…and the way you look at me should be down right scandalous with of how you just look at me with so much…”

Hiroshi’s throat tightened. He found it difficult to speak as he continued to look at Daisuke’s impossibly eyes with emotion for _him._

“How is it possible to happen to me? This…what we have when it hasn’t been a year since I almost died.”

Daisuke’s expression suddenly became afriad. Weather it was because of the vulnerability Hiroshi was showing him, or the mention of the accident, he wasn’t sure.

“Don’t mention that,” Daisuke said with a slight hiss with a hitch of distress. “I never want to think about that again.” Ashamed, the younger man wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I was too shy to visit you in your hospital room.” He took a breath with so much regret and care that it took Hiroshi’s breath away. A strange longing appeared in Daisuke’s eyes then. “When that strange friend of yours called, I…had to go.” Hiroshi almost collapsed when a gentle finger, so gentle it didn’t seem real, caressed his cheek.

“You were so sick with a fever.”

Ono-kun being Ono-kun frowned and asked,

“What happened to them, anyway?”

Cold water poured down Hiroshi’s front. His sudden giddiness evaporated, and the smile on his lips faded. Daisuke immediately knew something was wrong, because he said,

“Hiroshi?”

“I – “ but he didn’t get the chance to speak, for there was a sudden sound.

_C-thunk. Ca-thunk. Ca-thunk._

“Is that a helicopter?”

_“Un.”_

Hiroshi nodded distractedly. The helicopter was pure black. It wasn’t a Japanese Self-Defense Force. Was it American? Hiroshi narrowed his eyes. Suddenly without a thought he put himself in front of Ono-kun.

What was going to happen…? His breathing was labored. His bangs were hiding the expression in his eyes, but Hiroshi stopped.

The helicopter flew away without any warning.

It wasn’t a Decipticon.

“Kamiya-san…are you okay?"

_That’s it. I’ve had enough of this bullshit._

“Daisuke. There is something I need to tell you.”


End file.
